A Soft Place to Land
by bbgirl17555
Summary: Set after “Derek’s” first attack on Peyton, Peyton leans on Lucas. “Can I stay?” And there it is, crossing her lips in a needy rush, ripping the band aid off quickly and exposing herself.
1. Part One: A Place to Breathe

**A Safe Place to Land**

Set after "Derek's" first attack on Peyton, Canon 4.06

A\N: This is my first ever OTH fic and I am so nervous about it. Very Leyton but will still try to stay in canon. I would really love and adore any feedback, good, bad or whatever. This will have at least three parts, possibly more depending on where the story takes me. Thank you so much for taking the time to read.

_~When evening shadows and stars appear  
And there is no one to dry your tears  
I could hold you for a million years  
To make you feel my love~_

**Part One: A Place to Breathe**

He rolls over, eyes squinting through the darkness at the golden angel in front of him. "Hey."

"I'm sorry. I tried." She explains weakly, a key to his room clutched in her hand. Her voice is soft, the mewing of a forgotten kitten, and she is perched on the edge of his bed, a ball of nerves frayed from lack of sleep and too much worry.

Lucas scoots over and tries not to notice where his body touches hers, a hypersensitivity that is both wonderful and horrible, causing an unease knot in his stomach that is like pain only not. He asks about her brother, her real brother, and his heart breaks for her when he hears a tiny sob in her voice. She doesn't deserve this, not to be left, not again, not after all this. It chips away at his faith, his belief in karma, in justice, his insistence the right will always prevail- for what sort of god would allow so much pain shower down on one so good, so kind, so loving. It eats at him, a virus, blurring the line between right and wrong, what the point of being a good person if this is your reward?

"Can I stay?" And there it is, crossing her lips in a needy rush, ripping the band aid off quickly and exposing herself. She hates to be this, always the girl he has to save. She wants to be strong, to be powerful, to not let this break her but in the dark it is too hard to keep the memories at bay, to keep the shadows from crashing in. And in the end it doesn't matter, she knows Lucas will save her anyway.

He knows he should take her home, tell her she can beat this, that she is going to be okay, but he doesn't. He needs her there, needs to be able to inhale the strawberry scent of her shampoo and hear her breathing beside him. He can't close his eyes without seeing her room, hundreds of pictures of her smiling face and her lying cold on the bed. And he knows none of this would have happened if he hadn't left her alone, if he had made sure she was okay, if he had asked Skillz to take her home or a million other possibilities. Instead he left her, told her she was safe and the guilt weighs heavy on his heart. _People Always Leave_

She is his Peyton. And he knows she almost slipped through his fingers. He is constantly grasping at sand, praying to a cruel god to let this not be the day; she is always so close to the edge. And it falls to him to pull her back, to keep her safe, to make sure no harm happens to the girl that hold his heart in her green window eyes. He dreams about the day he won't. The night when he won't be fast enough, strong enough and she will lay cold on a slab. He wakes sodden with sweat, and tries not to think about the nightmares. In the dark, those are dangerous monsters to face, so he answers with the only word he can, "sure."

He moves and makes room for her, laying his head back on the pillow and he can count four inches from the tip of his nose to hers, four inches too far but she doesn't move closer and he doesn't push. He wants to keep her close, to wrap her in his arms and bury his head against her soft ringlets of blonde hair but pushing Peyton is the surest way to make her bolt so he just lies and watches over her.

She lifts her hand between them, and he mirrors her movement, finger intertwining. For a second he closes his eyes and exhales, being able to really breathe deep for the first time since the attack. It is always so messy between them, that's what he tells himself when ever he finds himself looking at her a little too long, missing her a little too much. It's messy but in moments like this it seems so simple. It's Lucas and Peyton, and its always going to be there, their connection. So he breathes deep and squeezes her hand and vows to never let her go.

TBC


	2. Part Two: Picking Up the Pieces

_~When you're all alone,  
and you need a light,  
someone to guide you through the night,  
just remember that I am here,  
to hold you close and dry your tears.~_

**Part Two: Picking up the Pieces**

It's a little after three when she wakes according to the blue LCD clock beside his bed. He bolts upright to see her crunched into a ball, knees tightly pressing against her chest as if she is trying to crawl into herself, sobs racking her body. Her eyes are open but she doesn't seem to see him as Lucas perches in front of her after fumbling with his bedside light, casting the shadows out of the room.

"Peyton. It's okay. Peyt. He repeats her name, when she looks through him. And he suddenly feels so very stupid, he thought that he had saved her that night, that the danger was behind them when the real danger was the broken girl in front of him and he doesn't know which words to say to make the pieces fit, to make her his Peyton again. "Please." His voice cracks and there are no more words.

She closes her eyes, trying to block out the sound of Lucas' voice, so desperate to just save her, to fix this. There is no fixing this, no fixing her- not really. She knows that this has changed her, Lucas was right, he won but she cannot do anything to stop it. Her eyes open slowly, taking in Lucas' steady blue gaze, as he crouches on the floor at the end of the bed, his eye line level with hers. There is so much concern in his eyes that the tears start flowing again, catching on her cheeks and rolling with soft plops down on to her folded arms.

"Peyton, please." Lucas repeats and she knows he is asking to let him in, to let him help her. This is her Lucas, a white knight, always, but the darkness is not a foe he cannot beat, it lives in her heart, concealing the silver lining from her view, hiding the path out of this terror, destroying her fragile hope that life is good.

She closes her eyes again, demons in her mind eye and she wants to tell Lucas how she hates that he saved her, hates that he went into that school because he lost Keith that fateful day and now? Now it doesn't matter, saving her meant nothing because she is a broken doll, pinned in by fear, destroyed by anxiety. She wants to live but she isn't living, she is surviving, clinging the ledge of her sanity by the tips of her raw fingers, bloodied from the fight, the fight to simply be. And it seems a waste that Lucas lost a man that was more than a father to him so she could slip further and further into the shadows. But she doesn't know how to tell him this so she opens her eyes once more and forces a word from her lips. "Sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry." Lucas repeats, a hallow laugh catching in his throat. Its almost funny if it wasn't so sad, so wrong and he thinks this must be some bad dream where he can't wake up. He sighs, placing a hand on either side of her crossed arms, making her see him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. What could Peyton Sawyer have to apologize about? She is amazing."

She shakes her head in a silent protest and he moves his one hand up, catching a golden ringlet in his palm, smoothing his fingers down to the tip. She knows that he doesn't want to know this, to know that she sits awake a night wishing that she were dead, praying for the fear to stop. So she plays along. "For all sorts of things."

A smile crosses his face, brief and true. "Come here." He gestures, opening his arms, inviting her in, offering comfort and understanding. For a moment she turns from him, eyes searching the ceiling for fallen angels before she launches herself into his open embrace. And she is in his arms, sobs mingled with hiccups against his chest, tears dampening his shirts as he whispers softly into her golden mane, "It's okay. It's okay. I've got you." He kisses the top of her head fiercely. "I won't let anything happen to you." Because it can't, it just can't; because life isn't worth living without her drawings, her green eyes, the way she glares at him when he has pushed too hard, or the way a song can make her smile one moment and sob the next. And because since she can blaring into his world, nearly running him down he cannot imagine life without her by his side.

He isn't sure how long they stand like that, it feels like forever, but when she pulls away to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her hoodie, it feels all too short. "Now I am really embarrassed." She admits, dabbing at her eyes. "I basically break in here and then I wake you up in the middle of the night and cry all over you."

He tugs gently at the sleeve of her hoodie, pulling them closer, hating how empty his arms feel without her in them. "You did not break in. You are always welcome here, you know that."

"Well as long as Brooke isn't here." She immediately regrets the words, regrets bringing up another messy piece of their history.

"Always." Lucas insists and she leaves it at that a warmth filling her.

"So…" They stand as she fidgets, her fingers drumming along her pants, the soft sound amplified in the silence.

"Any chance of you getting back to sleep?" He looks at her sideway, mockingly fearful of her answer.

Peyton can't help but allow a small smile to cross her lips at his expression "That would be a no." She rubs her arms as she tries to block out images from that terrible night, the feel of his hand on her neck and the smell of his breath against her skin. "Sorry." She sighs as she crawls back on his bed.

"Well you know they say sleep is highly overrated."

"Luke, I should really just go home. This isn't fair to you. You shouldn't be forced to stay awake because I am too scared to close my eyes."

"No." Lucas stretches a hand out placing it on her arm, keeping her from leaving.

"Its okay, Luke, really." She lies, she cannot do this to him, she cannot be another problem he has to fix.

He shakes his head, and inwardly battles with himself about how much to tell her. "No, its not okay. I need you here." An incredulous look is all she gives him. "What? You don't believe me?"

She looks from his hand on her arm back to his face; doesn't he know that her belief in everything is broken? Doesn't he know that she isn't sure if the sky is blue or red, if she is coming or going, or standing still? "What you need is sleep." And with that she pulls her back her arm, breaking contact with her only anchor in a sea of turmoil.

"Yes." He agrees quickly, so quickly that Peyton cannot hide the flicker of hurt and surprise that crosses her face. "No, its not like that. It's just- I haven't been sleeping since…" He cannot bear to name it. "Tonight, with you, that is the first time I have been able to sleep, because you were with me and I knew you were safe."

She softens at his admission. "I can't close my eyes without seeing him." She admits.

"Then don't." Luke moves to lie against the pillow, grabbing for the T.V remote and flipping it on. "Just be with me."

She wants to tell him no, to tell him that he deserves more than a splintered girl with no hope but instead she finds herself leaning back into his arm, and resting her head on his chest. "No infomercials." She bargains.

"No infomercials." He agrees.

It's a little after five according to the blue LCD clock beside his bed when Lucas complains once again at the TV Land programming. "See how exactly do they just change Darrins like that and no one says anything?"

Lucas waits for Peyton's reply- for the past few hours they had been trading quips on everything from the decoration of Jeanie's bottle (over the top) to Arnold Ziffle (coolest T.V pig, ever) and they were into their second episode of Bewitched, but no retort came. "Hey." Lucas looked down to see Peyton's head rising and falling against his chest with every breath he took, and smiled to himself at the slumbering blonde angel in his arms.

Outside his door window he can see the twilight rolling in, the first weak strands of light trying to brighten the world, clicking off the T.V he places a kiss on the top of her head before leaning against his headboard. "And they lived happily ever after." He whispered, closing his eyes, both of them awash in a brief moment of contentment.

TBC

_A/N: A big thanks to everyone for reading and thank you for the reviews. Hopefully you enjoyed this next part, if you did please click the happy green review button and feed my muse. Thanks! Becca_


	3. Part Three: Falling Into Fear

**A/N: First I am so sorry about dropping this fic. I blame it on my recent computer issues. Luckily for those who still wish to read I am back at this in full force. Please let me know what you think. Reviews make me smile and do a happy dance. –Becca-**

_~And in this world  
Where nothing else is true  
Here I am  
Still tangled up in you  
I'm still tangled up in you~_

**Part Three**

They fall into a routine of sorts. Lucas spends his mornings missing class, with Peyton sleeping body draped against his own, and spends his afternoons explaining to coach that he really does want to be on the team again. Peyton haunts his room, or at times the café, staying sequestered in the back, away from eyes that pry. With her hands full of suds and clean dishes air drying she feels almost okay, there is something healing in small tasks, ones with both a beginning and an ending.

It's not till the third night that Karen decides to question her son about their newest house guest. Lucas assures her that he is just helping Peyton, that he and Peyton are just friends and if to illustrate his point says, "Mom, she needs help. It's just Peyton."

With an arched eyebrow and eyes that see clearer than her own son, she replies. "I know its Peyton. That is what I am worried about."

"Mom." is his eye-roll reply as he opens the fridge and pulls out the fresh carton of orange juice. Peyton loves the stuff so despite the fact that Lucas didn't care much for it; it had made it on to the weekly shopping list taped to the refrigerator door.

"Don't give me that look, Lucas." Karen warns. "I don't know how many other mothers would be okay with letting a girl spend the night in their teenage son's room." She doesn't go on to speak about how she is as worried for Lucas as she is for Peyton these days; after all she had a front row seat for all those years where Lucas adored Peyton from afar. Both of them are too freshly wounded to be stepping into something serious. "Just promise me, you will be careful."

Lucas kisses his mom's head. "I promise." And then he slips past her, a glass of orange juice in his hand, heading for his room where Peyton lays stretched out against his comforter, earbuds drowning out her world.

"Hey." He calls, making his presence known, not wanting to frighten her, too much fear in her world as is. He hands her the glass as she pulls on the white cord, the music softly seeping out from where the earbuds lay dangling around her neck. "What are we listening to tonight?"

"Something commercial and a little embarrassing." Peyton admits, setting down the half empty glass, keeping her Ipod from Lucas' view.

"Commercial and embarrassing?" Lucas teases with a smile. "Now this I have to hear." Peyton shakes her head 'no', clutching it to her chest. "Come on. You know you want to share your secret shame."

"Secret shame? You mean like the chocolate pudding incident in third grade?"

"Yes." Lucas pouts. "And for bringing that up…" He snatches the Ipod from her hand and stands, placing it on his docking station. There is something amazing about someone knowing you from childhood, even if they did run in different circles, knowing that they knew who you were when it was all awkward limbs and smiles with braces and yet at other times he wished Peyton didn't have such a good memory. He hit play and went to sit beside her, as Peyton buries her head in her hands. "Isn't that-?"

"Staind." Peyton groans out.

"Peyton Sawyer listens to Staind." Lucas mocks, knocking his shoulder against her own.

"I wouldn't talk 'Puddin' Pants'." And then there is a squeal and a mess of limbs and laughter as Lucas's fingers inflict torture on her sides, Peyton calling out "Puddin' Pants" between fits of giggles that leave her breathless and forgetful of all the fear.

The wrestling match ends with Peyton's hands clasped over Lucas' larger ones, as she struggles beneath his weight to fill her lungs, her curls laying in a messy halo about her head and shoulders. "Uncle?" Lucas taunts, before the word hits both of their ears, suddenly cutting the happiness short, a knife drawn down roughly on their bubble, popping it.

The moment falters, her hands dropping his and he can see the words about to fall from her tongue. _I'm sorry._ He can't hear it again, not from her, not now. Maybe she thinks that if only Lucas had known, but he knows, he knows nothing would have stopped him from going into that school on that fateful day. She is Peyton, and since she had came blaring into his world, music pounding and tires squealing, he knew that she was forever his.

"Peyton." It's a warning, a shake of his blonde head. He can't say it; it's disloyal to Keith, but its there, the simple truth that he would do anything for her.

"Luke." He can hear the tears in her voice, a prayer, a plead, to let her apologize for some imagined sin, for being saved only to slip into the darkness anyway. He can't take the sound of so much sadness, and the way her olive eyes fill with tears- it has to stop. He had learned long ago that being in Peyton's world meant having to sit by and watch her struggle with more burdens than anyone should have to, it meant hurting for her every time she stumbles and fights bravely to once again find her footing but there is only so much sorrow he can take.

"Shh." His breath is warm against her ear, sending a tingle down her spine. "It's okay."

It's not okay, not really, but she understands. Sometimes you pretend the wound isn't so bad, the cut so deep, so that you can make it though one moment to the next and sometimes in the imaginary it becomes almost true, things dulling under the lie. So she just nods.

It's all he needs, a moment to let the darkness go and suddenly he is blinded by her light, his hands in her wild halo of curls and his lips on hers. She tastes sour and sweet; she pushes and pulls at him, her mind a cacophony of sounds that scream at her but only one makes it through the din, _Lucas_. _Is this wrong? Is this right?_ He doesn't know, he doesn't even care, not now, not with her arching beneath him and her hands splashed across his back. He deepens the kiss, devouring her, drinking in every last bit of her before the stroke of twelve; he isn't foolish to believe this dream will last. She pulls back, desperate for breath and he knows what is coming next. _It was a mistake. It didn't mean anything. _Not again. He can't listen to her tell him why they can't be, he already knows.

"Luke?" She asks, her voice timid as he sits up, his weight sliding off of her. He is refusing to look at her and she knows why. She knows the words he will speak. _It was a mistake. It didn't mean anything. _It's too much, too much hurt, she cannot be told the reasons why they can't just be.

"Peyton." It's a plea but she just shakes her head, and makes her way to the door and out into the darkness. There is more to fear in that room than from anything Derek could ever do to her.

TBC


End file.
